Heart of Darkness, the Tale of a Shakti
by Amethest
Summary: A fan fic unlike any other that you have read!!! DARK AND POWERFUL!! VERY original and intriuging!!!


This fic is the powerful, dark, sad story of a young girl with a very dark destiny.  
  
It begins in the Founders time period and will eventually reach the time of Harry, Ron, and Hermione.  
  
Be prepared for quite a story *grin*  
  
Please read and review!  
  
We hope you enjoy!  
  
~*Narcissa and Kittylioness*~  
  
**************************************************************************** ********  
  
The Beginning of the End  
  
Some say the first wizards left the earth and disappeared into silent limbo. There, they say, is where these wizards await for their peoples call to bring them home again. That cry, however, has long been drowned out, for the world is changing, those who dared to deal with ineffable powers would have great forces to reckon with. Upon the path of their return, it is said that only good shall prevail. However, there was one path traveled upon and one path left behind; ultimately, they would cross, and the implications, unfathomable.  
  
Merlin was the first, the first to gather, the first to surrender, the first to completely wield this incessant power. But never the last. The Shakti would be the key to all magic; they were those who could unlock the secrets of the ancients. They were the sole vessels in the world who could draw magic directly into themselves from apparent oblivion. They were those who could move mountains and places, to be, in themselves, infallible as the earth. Events, however, went wrong, or perhaps events took place in the incorrect order, but the power changed when it was reborn; the dark seed was planted, and was placed into the wrong hands.  
  
~*~*~  
  
The manor by the sea was quiet, far from the fast-paced life of the towns and markets. Time seemed to move differently there, but the underhanded nature of its residents was just as bad if not the same as in the other manors and larger towns. Times were becoming different, so were the people, and the land was at peace, but in this home there was utter turmoil. The child from the east was not the blessing he had originally thought; she was slowly beginning to wear out her welcome. . . .  
  
His broad shoulders tensed as he peered at the small child in front of him. His angular face was set in an all too familiar scowl. Asherah knew what this meant; she knew what sort of anger could posses this mammoth of a man. His dark hair was full of dirt from the work he had just come home from and his bronzed face had been mapped with far too wrinkles for his age from the long hours spent outdoors. He ran his callused fingers over his trimmed beard and moustache in a last attempt to compose his last dying nerve. This mere bit of a thing had pushed him farther than she had ever dared before. His voice erupted from his lips sending the girl cowering on the dirt floor, beside herself in fear.  
  
"I don't give you much to do, girl, the least you could do it to do it right!" Her uncle's face began to darken. "The animals must stay penned! The Lord of the manor would not be pleased to find all his animals released!" He picked her up and shook her forcefully. "Do you not like the food that I put on your table?" He was yelling in her face now. "Do you?!"  
  
"Yes, Uncle," she whimpered, wincing in pain as her uncle's grip tightened on her arms.  
  
"I don't want anymore of those animals released, do you hear me?" her uncle demanded.  
  
"Yes, the animals stay penned."  
  
"Good," her uncle growled. "No more mess ups, you hear? Or you're going to regret it. Now get out of my sight."  
  
His grasp suddenly slackened and Asherah fell roughly back to the floor, tears slowly escaping her eyes. Never before this moment had her uncle regarded her with such pure hatred. Never had their previous arguments been so venomous. The sickened look in his eyes stung her as she picked herself from the floor. "I said get out!" he spat again.  
  
Without a backwards glance, Asherah stole from the house that they shared with three other serf families, and over to the empty pens where few of the animals still lingered. She threw herself on a small bale of hay as a dusty coloured mare made her way towards the sobbing child; its golden mane shimmered in the sun.  
  
The mare nudged Asherah and the child looked up, tucking a strand of her jet-black hair behind an ear. With the back of her hand, she wiped the tears from her eyes, a small smile lighting up her beautiful bronzed face.  
  
"Hello," Asherah said softly and the mare neighed softly, nudging Asherah again. "Yes, my uncle and I had a fight again." Asherah sighed. "They've been becoming much worse lately, and he's beginning to frighten me terribly. I don't know what to do." She paused. "He hit me again," Asherah said, and the mare nudged her face, kneeling down beside her. "Thank you for understanding," Asherah said softly, stroking the silky mane. "No one seems to understand me anymore."  
  
Asherah heard the lumbering bulk of her uncle pulling the last of the animals into the barn and she lowered her voice, "This time he threatened me," she looked down at her tiny six-fingered hands, "I want to go home. I don't belong here." The mare neighed again, resting her head on Asherah's lap. Stroking the silky mane, Asherah said, "I'm not like the other children that I see in the market." Asherah fingered the tip of her slightly pointed ear. The mare lifted her head, her gold eyes looking into Asherah's brilliant emerald green ones. "An elf? You really think so?" The mare nodded slightly. "I don't know," Asherah said, looking down and fingering the hay, the small pieces sifting through her many fingers.  
  
She heard the door bang against the wall of the barn as it was flung open. Asherah, hidden at the moment by a wall, scrambled up. The mare stood, nudged Asherah in the neck, and trotted over to her water basin, taking a drink. Peeking around the wall, she saw her uncle feeding the other horses, and seized the moment to run out of the barn, past the hundreds of other homes on the manor, heading back to her house.  
  
~*~*~  
  
The busy market was crowded with merchants and peasants as the sun bore down upon its inhabitants. The stench of excrement filled the warm air. Asherah turned up her nose as she reluctantly followed her uncle and his cart full of animals. Her uncle had been charged with the responsibility of taking the animals to market, under the Lord's orders.  
  
Sadness filled her as she watched the young foal try to keep her uncle's pace of the full gowns horses as Asherah followed beside the cart. Asherah's feet began to lag, her feet sore from being made to walk. However, every time the foal would slow her pace, she would find herself being brutally pulled forward behind the haul. Her uncle rolled the cart to a stop and his gaze fell upon Asherah as he tied the horses.  
  
"No funny business, do you understand me, girl?" her uncle said sternly, his gaze boring into her.  
  
Asherah nodded. "Yes, Uncle," she replied. Her uncle looked at her as if about to say something, then changed his mind and walked up to the front of the shop, speaking with the owner.  
  
Asherah, glancing around, walked over to the foal, who was sweating heavily. "You poor thing," Asherah cooed softly, running her hands over the foal's sweat soaked skin. The foal shuddered slightly beneath Asherah's fingertips and neighed softly. Asherah smiled and placed a hand on the foal's head, above her eyes. "There, does that feel better?" The foal neighed lightly, nodding her head slightly. "Good. You are doing very well on your first day in front of the cart," Asherah said, taking a cloth from the pocket of her pants and wiping the sweat from the foal's dark brown skin. Straightening her tunic, Asherah placed the damp cloth back into her pocket. The foal looked at her with one eye and Asherah nodded. "We're selling some of the sheep and cows, but no horses." Asherah smiled. "Don't worry."  
  
"Come on," her uncle said roughly and Asherah nodded.  
  
"Yes, Uncle." Asherah looked back at the foal. "I'll be back soon," she whispered and the foal neighed.  
  
Asherah hurried to keep up with her uncle's fast pace.  
  
~*~*~  
  
The Seer watched as the man strode through the square, a child at his heels. Myrddin's eyes flickered from the man, to the child. There was something unusual about this child; she could feel it to the core of her very bones. Having lived in the wizarding world all her life, she was used to seeing unfeasible things, but this one topped all others. The child seemed emanate an aura, but it was shimmering, flashing between various colors, as if it hadn't quite formed yet.  
  
Could it be? Myrddin thought. She watched as the tall, severe-looking man stopped to examine something on a table in front of a busy shop. The girl looked around with a bored look on her face. Myrddin watched in fascination as the child held out her hand and a pebble flew into it. Immediately, a vision overwhelmed Myrddin. A tall wizard, a beautiful young woman, a snake-faced man, all wreathed in black flame.  
  
Then the vision was gone and Myrddin blinked. She watched as the man began walking again and the girl followed him dutifully. As the pair stopped near Myrddin's shop, she met the little girl's eyes and beckoned her forth. It could be possible . . . Myrddin thought as the girl walked cautiously over to her. Godric mentioned that numerous Hogwarts letters had been sent to a house and that, some how or another, they had never reached the witch inside. This could be her . . . Asherah Fiachra Azrael. As the girl stopped in front of Myrddin's table, Myrddin hid a smile as she took in the over all appearance of the child. Long, flowing black hair, slightly tipped ears . . . elvish, perhaps? Dark complexion, bright emerald eyes.  
  
"Yes?" the girl said, her voice as whispery as the wind.  
  
Myrddin's eyes widened slightly when she saw the girl tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, and noticed that the girl had six-fingers on each hand. Six-fingers . . . a Shakti? Yes . . . yes, as I look her over, I think she is the girl that I saw in that vision I had months back; the last of the Shakti, as I was the first. If she is, indeed, a Shakti, I will have to train her. A power like hers, if untrained, could bring catastrophic results.  
  
"My name is Myrddin," the Seer said, smiling. "I believe that I have something of yours."  
  
The girl furrowed her eyebrows, looking at Myrddin in confusion. "What?"  
  
"Your name is Asherah Fiachra Azrael, correct?"  
  
The girl looked startled, but quickly recovered. "Yes," she said slowly.  
  
"Then I believe this belongs to you." Myrddin reached beneath the table and pulled out the Hogwarts letter that Godric had given her. She handed it across the table to a very confused Asherah. "Go ahead, it won't bite," Myrddin said, laughing softly as Asherah looked at the letter as if it would come alive in her hand.  
  
Asherah looked at Myrddin; biting her lip and looking thoughtful. Then she turned to the envelope, opening it and taking out the piece of parchment, she squinted at the paper, biting her lip in concentration. Finally, she sighed, looking up at Myrddin. "I can't read this. I don't know how."  
  
Myrddin smiled softly, holding out her hand. "I'll read it for you, my child." Asherah nodded and handed Myrddin the letter and Myrddin read:  
  
"HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY  
  
(Recently Founded by Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, and Salazar Slytherin)  
  
Dear Miss Azrael,  
  
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.  
  
Term begins September 1st. We await your owl by no later than July 31st. As this is the first term of our school, we hope to make your schooling enjoyable, and this is new for us too, so we shall all be learning! I eagerly await your arrival.  
  
Helga Hufflepuff"  
  
Asherah looked at Myrddin, confused. "I don't understand. Hogwarts?"  
  
Myrddin nodded. "It's rather new, recently founded about a year ago." Myrddin gave Asherah a small smile. "I know that magic is not new to you, my child. I watched as you levitated that stone."  
  
"Oh . . . yes," Asherah said, smiling slightly. Then her face darkened, the smile vanishing. "My uncle will never agree to this. He doesn't like anything . . . unnatural, and it's bad enough that my appearance isn't quite normal in the first place, and -"  
  
"He threatened to sell you."  
  
"Yes - but . . . how did you know about that?" Asherah asked, an eyebrow raised. "That just happened this morning . . ." her voice trailed off.  
  
"Child, I See many things," Myrddin said calmly.  
  
"But isn't that impossible?"  
  
"You, yourself, should know that anything is possible. You can speak with animals and you have an unreal connection with nature. Nature is a being to you, very much alive. You have a gift, Asherah, and it's up to you whether or not you choose to use it wisely or not."  
  
"A gift?"  
  
Myrddin nodded. "A gift that can be trained at Hogwarts."  
  
"But, I already told you, my uncle will refuse."  
  
Myrddin smiled. "If that is the case, then I can help you."  
  
"You?" Asherah asked, her eyebrows arched.  
  
"We are very much alike, you and I." Myrddin smiled softly. "I would like you to come back here in one week and, if you cannot go to Hogwarts, we can begin your training then. First off, though, is to teach you how to read."  
  
"But why are you doing this? Why would you want to?"  
  
"Because, child, you are quite special. More special than you even realize."  
  
"Asherah! Get over here! We're leaving!" Myrddin saw the girl's uncle standing in the sun, looking at Asherah crossly.  
  
"You had best be going. Remember what I told you."  
  
Asherah nodded and rushed over to her uncle. Myrddin watched as the man grabbed the tiny Shakti's arm, speaking to her hurriedly. He dragged her into the crowd and Myrddin lost sight of them.  
  
Myrddin frowned. The last of the Shakti. Let us hope she chooses wisely, Myrddin thought, standing. She began walking towards the back of her shop, the feminine features melting away to reveal the face of a wizened wizard, Merlin, himself.  
  
~*~*~  
  
As Asherah expected, her uncle flat out refused to let her go to this school. He had called it rubbish and had promptly destroyed the letter. He also told her that if she spoke another word about magic, he wouldn't hesitate to sell her.  
  
Asherah sat on the short stump, looking around the forest. Here and there, batches of sun peeked through the canopy, making the morning dew glisten upon the leaves. A soft breeze filtered through the forest and to Asherah, there were voices carried on that wind. She could feel the trees around her, very much alive, whispering to another.  
  
Asherah heard a soft cry on the wind and stood, closing her eyes, stretching her senses out into the forest around her. She began walking, her eyes still closed, as if guided by an invisible thread. Then she stopped, opening her eyes, and saw a tiny sapling, its middle bend partially, the leaves beginning to droop. She knelt down, placing her hands over the bent part. She could feel the sapling shudder, as she coaxed it to heal itself. She took her hands away from the sapling, watching it straighten. Thank you, just a whisper on the wind. Asherah smiled, standing, and watched as new leaves began to bud and form on the tiny sapling.  
  
Myrddin had said that she had an unreal connection with nature, and it was true.  
  
~*~*~  
  
Myrddin's home smelt strangely soothing as Asherah walked through the crooked doorframe. The scent of herbs that was emanating from simmering in a black cauldron sitting over the fire was its source. She studied the room as Myrddin sat her down at the small wooden table in the centre of the room. It was a modest sized house made up of one room containing oddities, which were strewn about it creating a sort of chaotic order. There were many tombs of books lining the walls and the single worktable placed along the far back wall of the house. Asherah smiled to herself, she suddenly felt like she finally belonged somewhere.  
  
After a lengthy lesson in reading and writing, Myrddin began her first lesson in magic. As the lesson continued, Myrddin warned her never to let her anger overcome her. "It would bring disastrous results. You cannot control your power, nor channel it yet, and I am terrified to know what would happen if you let it loose. Your power, Asherah, stems from Nature itself, and Nature is quite powerful. I can teach you this control, but you are going to have to remain calm at all times and be willing to work quite hard."  
  
Asherah nodded as she watched to old woman move slowly through her abode. "Of course. I understand."  
  
"Do you?" Myrddin said, raising an eyebrow. "I don't know if you fully understand the consequences of hatred."  
  
"I will be careful. You can trust me."  
  
Myrddin sighed, sitting back in the ancient wooden chair. "My child, trust is just a figure of speech. There is no trust . . . not anymore. Think of it this way. An animal trusts its master completely, not thinking for a moment that its master will betray it. Then, the inevitable arrives, and the master sells the animal, betraying the trust that the animal held. What is trust, but a figure of speech? The animal knew, deep down, that its master would not be its only master, but it trusted its master. Why?"  
  
"I don't know . . ."Asherah said softly.  
  
"Exactly," Myrddin said, placing a finger to her head. "Trust is all up here. An idea, something that will flutter away before you even whisper it. Don't put your trust in material things, Asherah. They will always betray you. If you must trust something, trust yourself and your abilities. Those will never fail you."  
  
~*~*~  
  
Day after day, Asherah would steal away to the market, telling Robin, one of the women that lived in the house with them, that she was going to see the animals.  
  
Working extremely hard, she found that she could accomplish a great many things as the days turned into weeks and into months. Bit by bit, she was slowly fine tuning her connection with Nature and honing her abilities. Myrddin taught her the most basic of spells; those that she could perform without the aid of a wand, which, in reality, was only an object to focus the power of the spell.  
  
She remembered what Myrddin had said when she asked why she couldn't use a wand. "My child," Myrddin laughed, "a wand is merely a stick of wood. All it does is help you focus the power of your spell. You don't need a wand for the most basic of spells. As you grow more advanced, a wand comes in handy, but it is not necessary. There are many that can perform wandless magic, even the most advanced sort. You do not need a wand, not yet. Should you decide to attend Hogwarts, you will be required to purchase a wand, but if you learn how to do without, that makes you an even better sorcerer. For a wand can be easily taken away by a simple Disarming Charm, but wandless magic stays with you. No one can take that away from you."  
  
Asherah would sit, day after day, in the woods, working at her magic, growing stronger with every moment. Her reading and writing were improving as well and she would sit in Myrddin's home for long periods of time, reading the many books in Myrddin's vast library.  
  
She had been lucky so far to be able to escape to the market without her uncle knowing, but she knew that it wouldn't last. Once she had been on her way to the market and her uncle had passed her on the road with a cart full of vegetables. The only reason why he hadn't noticed her was because she had been able to hide within the shadows of the trees, becoming a shadow, in a way. She had watched until he had disappeared off in the distance before she had continued on her way.  
  
Many times, Asherah would journey through a batch of woods behind the main house of the manor. A beach lay on the other side where the ocean lapped on the shore and there was not another soul about to cause interruptions. She would sit on the sand, letting it sift through her fingers, looking over the vast blue sea, the sun glimmering on the surface. Once or twice, she had actually stepped into the water and was immediately hit by a wave of voices; the voices of the sea. They were not coherent, but the feelings that washed over her helped her to understand their meaning. She would walk forward until she had completely immersed herself in the sea, her eyes closed, listening to the voices of the creatures that swam in the ocean. It made her sad to leave, to walk away into the woods, leaving the sea, the place where she felt truly at home.  
  
~*~*~  
  
Asherah ran down the dirt path, darting in and out of the shadows that lined the edges. Her uncle had shown up in the market place and it had been the last thing that she had expected. Now, if she didn't get back before him, there would be no telling what he would do.  
  
Light-footed, she flew across the ground, as quick as a flash of lightning. Her heart was thundering in her chest and her quick breaths felt like liquid fire. Suddenly, her foot got caught in an upraised root and it sent her sprawling face first into the dust. She coughed, sitting up as the dust billowed around her.  
  
A shadow stretched over her and she looked up to see what she feared most: her uncle. He looked down at her menacingly, his mouth curved up in a sneer. "Well, would you look at what we have here," he said nastily. He reached down and grabbed the front of her tunic, jerking her upward violently. He held her out in front of him, her feet dangling above the ground.  
  
She gripped his arm with her hands, trying to free herself. "Let me go!" she protested.  
  
"Where the devil were you? You were supposed to come with me to the market but Robin said that you were sick." He shook his head. "Lying now, are we? Making other people lie for you? WHERE WERE YOU?!!"  
  
"I -I was just -"  
  
"Disobeying me?" He gripped her tunic tighter, making it difficult to breath.  
  
"P-please!" she gasped, her hands gripping his arm tighter as her breath supply was getting cut off.  
  
"I told you what would happen if you disobeyed me again!"  
  
"No!" Asherah cried, struggling in her uncle's vice-like grip. "Please!"  
  
Her uncle looked at her uncaring. "You should have listened to me in the first place and stayed put! Now, you will have to learn!" He began dragging her towards the stables; Asherah struggling violently.  
  
He threw her down on a pile of hay and pulled off his belt, holding it in front of her. She scampered back, gripping the hay in fright, her eyes wide. "No!" she screamed, trying to find a means of escape.  
  
"Turn around!"  
  
"NO!" Asherah yelled defiantly, glancing around in terror, begging the animals for help. The horses bucked and neighed loudly, trying to break from their stalls. Charger, the largest and strongest of the horses, was trying to kick down his door, the white star shining brightly on his forehead, a stark contrast to the blackness of the rest of his body.  
  
"TURN AROUND!" Her uncle reached down with his free hand and flung her onto her back roughly.  
  
She closed her eyes, biting her lip to try and keep from screaming out in pain as the belt hit her back, ripping through her tunic. She could hear the horses going wild and knew that they were trying to get to her. Searing pain flooded through her back as she was hit, time after time.  
  
Outside, the other serfs could hear the noise from the stables and ran to investigate.  
  
"THIS WILL TEACH YOU NOT TO DISOBEY ME!!!!" her uncle yelled as he hit her again.  
  
As Asherah lay there, barely moving, she could feel the rage filling every part of her body, just like Myrddin warned her never to let happen. With this rage, she could feel the particles in the air pulling themselves into her body. With every thrash of the belt onto her skin it seemed like the barriers of her world were caving in on her; the sunlight seemed to dim, the colors themselves seeming to fade. The horses were suddenly quiet as if they had gone into a trance.  
  
Her uncle looked around, confused. The serfs outside halted in their footsteps as everything went deadly quiet around them. The Earth itself had seemed to stop. Not a sound could be heard; it seemed as if the world was holing its breath in anticipation as to what was going to happen next.  
  
Inside the stables, it was as if Asherah was pulling the life force out of everything around her. Her body seemed to fill beyond it capacity, her head beginning to pound and her vision turning red. She stood, straightening; the wounds on her back healing. She spun to face her uncle, her eyes blazing with an inner fire. Shadows formed around her, covering her in darkness. She saw her uncle, the object of her vengeance, cowering in a small corner, the belt lying forgotten on the floor next to him. As she took a step closer, he felt a cold chill fall upon him. What happened next was beyond words . . .  
  
~*~*~  
  
The flames could be seen for miles, but the power that emanated from the child on the shore of the foreign sea could be felt in the hearts of all those living for miles. Her small trembling figure had made that happen, but at what cost? The waters were black, like the night sky and calming as a mother's kiss, but the child who walked in the sea was far from calm. The child sunk into the sand along the shore, taking in the comforting sound of the waves crashing on the rocks beyond. The wind howled, carrying with it the thick smoke and the nauseating smell of charred flesh.  
  
The child's memories seemed to have faded but the rage within still remained. That forthcoming darkness that was to engulf her soul was becoming born within her as the fear inside her died. Tonight, this child became what we all dread the most. The darkness, the fear, the heartless, upon waking from a nightmare, the body of the dreamer still feels that cold terror running through its veins. She was the horror that left their hearts thrashing in their chest; the cold sweat on their flesh and the dread in their eyes. She was to be this terror; she was to awaken this fear in the hearts of men.  
  
~*~*~  
  
Merlin stood from his seat in his stand in the market, an overwhelming sense of dread filling his entire body, shooting down to the very core of his being. He could feel the dark energy pulsating through the air pulling all that was good in the world to it, to oblivion. Asherah! That word ripped through him like a dagger of ice, chilling his very bones. In an instant, he Disapparated.  
  
When he Apparated on the land that had once held a sprawling manor and the surrounding huts of the serfs, he saw that it was a blackened, charred landscape. Smoke wafted up from the remains of the houses and the ruin of the large manor home. The smell of brimstone was in the air as he tried to clear some rubble to find that now the smell of charred human flesh filled his nostrils. Merlin turned his head from the sight that he now beheld. The animals ran wild, as though they had not been harmed by whatever had done this. They fled into the surrounding woods.  
  
Merlin sank to his knees, his head in his hands. He looked up at the burning buildings and the destruction. What have I released?  
**************************************************************************** ********* Different huh?? 


End file.
